Smoke hung heavy in the air and he could feel the thumping bass through the soles of his boots as he made his way slowly through the random party house. He couldn't remember if it had been Ricky or Jasmine or Franco who invited him or if anyone even had. All he knew was that he had the supply and the demand was here.
Slapping palms with several people he passed, Caleb wended his way through to the kitchen, the exchanges so quick and effortless it was almost impossible to see the trade. His pockets bulged with cash.
Someone passed him a red plastic Solo cup.
"Hey, sugar," a female voice cooed in his ear.
Arms slithered around his waist from behind, hot breath fanning against his neck. He didn't need the cloying scent of vanilla to know who was clinging to him. The titillating press of her tits was enough of a giveaway.
"Something I can do for you, Sarah?"
Pouting lips came into view as Sarah twisted around his body, putting plenty of shimmy and shake to things. "I think the question should be: is there something
I
can do for
you
?" she purred.
"Not anymore."
There was a time, not long ago, when just the suggestion of her puckered lips would have had him crashing into a semi-private corner to ravage her. But that was one ex-best friend and one too many stolen snorts of coke ago.
"Don't be like that, Caleb. There's no reason we can't mix business with pleasure."
"The business supersedes the pleasure." He leaned close to whisper in her ear. "I don't fuck with fiends, Sarah. You knew that way before your deviated septum."
In his defense -- or maybe hers -- Sarah had never known how Caleb made all his money. The part-time gig at the factory didn't account for the nearly limitless stacks of cash he had at his disposal. She ended up getting a taste of what Nico had to offer one night when Caleb was working and it took way too long for him to realize that she had become just another hopeless addict.
One who would lie, cheat and steal her way to her next fix.
Sighing, he extricated himself from her clutches and stood staring down at her. "Go find Nico, Sarah. I'm sure he has what you want."
He left before she could make an even bigger fool of herself.
The kitchen was sparsely furnished -- anything breakable and even remotely valuable had been removed prior to the party starting. Whoever was hosting had obviously learned their lesson from every previous party. If it wasn't a window getting smashed out, it was framed pictures and priceless knick knacks getting busted.
It was quieter here, less populated. He could breathe a little easier.
Franco stood in the corner by the table-for-two, chewing at the rim of his plastic cup and Facebook open on his phone about three inches from his face. It took him a minute to notice Caleb.
"Oh, hey, dude," he said, his eyes finally focusing.
They pounded knuckles.
"Where's Raul?" Caleb asked.
Franco's eyes flickered. "Uh..."
"Don't bullshit me," he warned. "That little punk has owed me for three weeks now. I'm done playing."
It wasn't even that it was a huge amount Raul owed. But the minute word got around that one person -- a friend's brother at that -- was stiffing him, his reputation was shot. He was going to have to make an example of the kid and that seriously pissed him off because he liked him.
Franco sighed. "He's in one of the bedrooms."
Nodding, Caleb found the hallway that led to the back of the house. Luck was on his side tonight. The first door he opened revealed Raul dry humping the shit out of some chick on an unmade, twin size bed.
Two steps and Caleb had Raul by the scruff of his neck, hauling him off the girl and slamming him against the wall. Her startled scream barely even registered. As she scrambled off the bed and fled, yanking her shirt over her bare tits, Caleb slammed Raul against the wall again for emphasis.
"What the fuck, man?" Raul shouted.
"I think you know what this is about, Raul," he said calmly, turning him and anchoring his forearm against his throat. He only applied slight pressure but Raul's face started getting red quick and his eyes bugged out.
He gurgled something in reply.
Caleb let up a little.
"I'll have it... Friday," Raul repeated, panting.
Caleb considered. "Make it Thursday."
"But I don't get paid til—"
Before Raul could even blink, Caleb's fist was cracking the plaster near his left ear. Raul quaked a little in his Air Jordans. Blood and dust sprinkled onto his shoulder.
"Wednesday, Raul," Caleb said.
With fresh fear instilled in him, Caleb sent him stumbling out of the room. His knuckles throbbed like a bitch but he waited until Raul was out of sight before going across the hall to the bathroom and cranking the cold faucet on.
"So, do you pick fights with walls often?"
He paused, his shoulders tensing imperceptibly. "Only when they get in my way," he said mildly.
Soft, husky laughter echoed out of the bathtub.
Turning, he saw past the partially closed shower curtain to a young woman balancing precariously on the rim of the tub. Meeting his eyes, she let her hip rest against the tiled wall, her elbow on the small window ledge. He'd never seen eyes so intensely green before.
He realized from her vantage point, she had a direct line of sight into the bedroom across the hall.
Cocking a brow, she offered him a plastic cup. He wondered where the hell he'd lost his at as he accepted it, taking a cautious sip, surprised to taste only Pepsi.
"You didn't roofie me, did you?" he asked.
"Probably should have asked that
before
you drank. Guess we'll find out in a few minutes." She grinned, showing off a set of deep dimples, and took a drag off a cigarette. He was relieved to see it was
just
a cigarette. "Let me know if you start experiencing any dizziness."
He leaned against the sink. "What's your name?"
"Lina."
